


Roasting Rabbit

by TheSleepyOne



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Belief mention of injury, Drabble, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepyOne/pseuds/TheSleepyOne
Summary: You’re hurt while helping Eskel with a contract. As you rest by the campfire he refuses to speak to you.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Roasting Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: @creativepromptsforwriting 26. Campfire. My first fic in a while (years) and hopefully I don’t chicken out and delete it. I just wanted more Eskel fics and had time on my hands. When you can’t find a fic you want, write it. (daydreaming about said fic instead of writing it is also valid, just saying) Also unbeta’d so watch out for spelling mistakes and things alike.

The campfire was lit and burning. Two rabbits were roasting over the flames. And a blanket was draped over your shoulders as you resist the urge to look at Eskel. He hasn’t said a word to you since you returned to camp. And it was unnerving. 

Your hastily wrapped leg was a failed attempt at showing him that you were fine. He merely pushed your hand to the side and stitched the wound close without a word. When a whimper escaped your lips his eyes darted to yours searching for something you couldn’t place. 

That what you were dying? That a little scratch would take you away from him? That you would leave him? Before you could decide he moved back to his spot on the other side of camp making sure Scorpion and Lil’Bleater were fed. 

“Eskel,” you tired, knowing he could hear you. “I’m fine, really.” 

He said nothing. Not even a hum or anything to acknowledge you. 

“It will heal, it always does,” you tried again, tracking him with your eyes. Lil’Bleater met yours and bleated in sympathy. At least she could see that you were fine. 

“And then what?” came Eskel’s voice. He was facing his sword that he had thrown to the ground when he saw you struggling with your wound. “You get yourself killed trying to help when I told you to stay here?” 

He wasn’t yelling but you wished he was. Hearing his pained tone brought tears to your eyes. You weren’t trying to get yourself killed, injuries were to be expected on the Trail. You knew the fact the moment you decided to join Eskel. And although there have always been marks and bruises this was the first time he reacted like you were bleeding to death in front of him. 

“And what if you were the one to get hurt? What would I do then? Just leave you to die in the forest?”

“Yes.”

“You know I can’t do that,” you shot back, the orange from the fire reflected in your eyes. It almost made you look like a witcher. 

Finally Eskel turned to face you, his sword forgotten. “And you know I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

“I already told you I’m fine!” You sprung up from your seat and immediately regretted it as your leg flared up in pain. A giffin had dug its claw into your leg and you were feeling the consequences. You stumbled forward for roasting rabbits but before you could push your supper into the campfire you felt arms wrapped around you. 

Sometimes you forgot how fast witchers could move. One second Eskel was with the animals and the other he was pulling you to his chest. “Fine?” 

“Give me a week and I won’t feel a thing.” 

“What am I going to do with you?” Eskel sighed, nuzzling against your cheek. His arms tightening as if he could protect you from the continent as long as he held on. 

“Not burn my supper?” Though you didn’t push the rabbit into the fire it wouldn’t have made much difference. They were almost burnt to a crisp and tasted like it.


End file.
